


Finding Abrielle

by palmcockatoo



Category: Looking for Alaska - John Green
Genre: Alternate Ending, Character Death Fix, F/M, France (Country), Français | French, Gen, Not Really Character Death, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1457686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmcockatoo/pseuds/palmcockatoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Discontinued)<br/>From the perspective of miss Alaska Young on the so-called "Last Day", this work tells us everything the book didn't. As an alternate ending to Looking For Alaska, Finding Abrielle teaches us about Alaska as a person and how she really feels about Miles Halter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Petra Olofsson](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Petra+Olofsson), [Delilah Babbidge](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Delilah+Babbidge).



> I'm aware that the book was written in American English, but I wrote this work in British English. If you're American, please Google all the words you don't understand.

It was the first Monday of the new semester. I woke up wearing two T-shirts and jeans, remembering how awfully cold it had been when I'd gone to bed.  
I wondered what date it was, but I couldn't remember. I rolled out of bed. Literally.

I was too tired to even sit up and so I rolled onto the floor and dragged myself into the bathroom and pulled myself up using the sink.  
I'd never seen Death before, but if I had, I'd imagine he looks something like what I saw in the mirror that morning.  
My eyes were dull with dark grey circles under them, my mouth was half open and my hair was bigger than my head. I felt like I'd slept for a week but I was still tired. I turned on the sink and wet my hair and shook it off like a dog shakes off rain.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.  
"Just a second," I said with a surprising amount of shrieking to my voice. I turned off the sink and opened the door to reveal a boy standing in the doorway. He was about a decimeter taller than me with huge, dark, messy hair that seemed almost unreal, and completely grey eyes. He was wearing black trackies and a white hoodie that I was mildly jealous of.

"Hey, um," he said. "This is going to sound really stupid, but... Can I smell your hair?"  
Now, I don't know how many times you've had a guy knock on your door at 8 o'clock in the morning asking if he can smell your hair, but it didn’t seem like a day-to-day thing. As you'd expect I was somewhat taken aback a tad.

"Uh." I was stunned, unsure of what where to even begin answering that question. "Sure?"  
He grabbed my shoulders, leaned forward, and took a sniff of my hair. It was now that I noticed two guys behind a corner laughing their fucking asses off – Weekday Warriors. "Was this a fucking bet?" I asked.  
"Y- Uh... Y-Yeah," he stammered, and I sighed. "Whatever," I said and started closing the door, but he grabbed it. "Wait! What's your name?"  
"Oh, you want to know the name of the girl you just grabbed? That's a first!"  
"Look, you should be happy it wasn't something worse."  
 **I SHOULD BE HAPPY IT WASN'T SOMETHING WORSE?! IF IT WAS SOMETHING WORSE I'D KICK YOUR FUCKING ASS YOU IMBECILE!**  
But before I got the chance to call the bastard out on his bullshit he said, "I'm Malena. Malena Martínez."  
"Whate-" I began, but stopped to think about what he- sh- they just said.  
"Malena? Really?" I asked.  
"Yeah, I get that a lot. I'm not a dude, dude."

This, believe it or not, was almost as shocking as having someone sniff your hair at 8 o'clock in the morning.  
Almost.  
"Yeah, alright. I'm Alaska," I said.  
"Nice to meet you, Alaska," said Malena as she reached out her hand, which I rudely declined.  
"I gotta, uh... I gots to gets back to the, uh... School... Thing... Yeah," I said, and closed the door in Malena's face. I wasn't actually going to do any school work. It was a nice day and it was to be spent making Warriors' days shitty.

 

I thought I'd stop by Takumi's room after breakfast, but when I knocked on the door I got no answer. I turned to go back but after a second I heard whispers from inside. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but as soon as they were gone I heard a bed squeaking.  _Hehehehehe_ , I thought. _They're doin' the doo_.

So, I left them to it. I went to room 43 instead to see what the Colonel was up to. Not school, I'd imagine. I walked in without knocking, as I always did, and as expected he was sitting on the sofa playing video games.  
"Where's Pudge?" I asked.  
"Climbing Mount Lara." The Colonel replied without taking his eyes off the screen.  
"Of course." I walked past the Colonel, who was sitting on the left end on the sofa, and lay down on the opposite side with my head on the arm and my legs across his lap. He gave me a funny look and I just nodded at him and said, "Sup?" which made him look back at the screen.  
"What time is it?" he asked. I shrugged, but he didn't see it so I said, "Dunno. Don't have a watch."  
"There's one on the end table."  
"Then pause the game and look at it yourself!"  
(For the record, it was half past 8 - we found this out after about 20 minutes of bickering).

 

That afternoon was unfortunately uneventful. The Colonel wasn't in the mood for pranks, Takumi was banging some chick, and Pudge and Lara were desperately trying to shove each other's tongues down the other’s throat.  
This led to me actually attending classes. I don't usually skip classes, but I've never been a fan of working on Mondays. On Mondays you feel crappy because it's not the weekend anymore, so why should you do work and feel even more crappy?  
Booze, pranks, and smokes. That's what my Mondays are like. Later, though, when I was back in my room, Pudge and Lara dropped by.  
"Come on in," I said from my bed when I heard them knock.  
Now, remember how I said that having a girl sniff your hair at 8 o'clock in the morning is the weirdest thing I've ever experienced? Well, the funniest thing I've ever heard was heard on the very same day – today.  
When nervous Lara with nervous Pudge behind her asked me in her cute whatever-accent, "How do I give Pudge a blowjob?" I laughed.  
I laughed, I laughed, and I could not stop laughing. I laughed until my lungs were out of air, my chest started hurting, and I started to cry.  
It wasn't even one of those stupid laugh attacks you have at 3 in the morning where you laugh at pretty much everything. It was genuine laughter and I could not stop.  
Finally, I managed to stop, I took a huge breath, got up, and walked into the bathroom. I came out with a tube of toothpaste, and showed Lara exactly how I'd- Uh, how she would give Pudge a blowjob.

The look on Pudge's face as I licked that tube of toothpaste was worth all the jealousy I managed to hide.  
And then, they were gone, and I was finally alone.

 


	2. The Floof

At least until the Colonel knocked on the door about 5 minutes later.

"Alaska, you in there?" he asked.  
"WAIT A MINUTE!" I yelled back. _Christ_ , I thought as I ran around my room half naked looking for the clothes I'd thrown away carelessly before, _can't I have 10 fucking minutes to myself_? I pulled on my jean-shorts that reached down to right above my knees and my orange sweater vest.  
My hair was a complete mess – again – and I was still breathing heavily but I opened the door widely, put a smile on and said, "What can I do ya for?"  
"Is today the first of May or something? Did I miss something?" the Colonel asked.  
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said with clear sarcasm.  
"Okay, whatever. Finish what you're doing and meet me in my room."  
I smirked my patented smirk, winked at him, closed the door, and did exactly that.

I went over to Room 43, still wearing my shorts and orange sweater vest but this time with acceptable hair.  
I knocked on the door, and the Colonel opened it within half a second.  
"You took your time," he said.  
"Can't rush perfection," I teased. I walked right past him over to his open fridge, took a sip of the milk vodka (which still tasted terrible, by the way, but it was alcohol so who cares), and burped as loud as I could manage.  
"So," I said. "What'd'ya want?" And he just stood there, staring at me like I was some freak of nature.  
Right as he looked like he was about about to open his mouth to speak, Pudge came in the door.  
"Oh, hey Mi- uh, Pudge," he said. _He almost used Pudge's real name_ , I thought. _Awww..._  
"Hey," he said, and then he noticed me. With his mouth half open and very obviously staring at my chest, the little pervert was oddly cute. The Colonel probably assumed I was going to go on a feminist rant about the objectification of women's bodies again, so he nudged Pudge's shoulder and asked, "What's up?"  
He shook his head to snap out of his horny trance and asked if we wanted to come down to the Bridge with him. I asked if Lara would be there, but she wasn't.  
"Well," the Colonel said. "Alaska probably has something better to do, so I think we should."

And we did. Me, Pudge, and the Colonel. Close to the perfect group. Just one person too much.  
We talked about Lara on the way down to the Bridge, and when we got there, he started talking about the very awkward blowjob she'd given – or tried to have given – to him.  
I felt this weird nagging feeling in my chest when he was finished talking.  
"I can't believe she went down on you twice in one day," the Colonel uttered.  
"Only technically. Really just once," I corrected him.  
"Still. I-I mean- Still. Pudge got his hog smoked!"  
"Poor Colonel," I teased, smirking at him. "I'd give you a pity blow, but I really am attached to Jake."  
"That's just creepy. You're only supposed to flirt with Pudge."  
"But Pudge has a _giiirrrrlllfriend_." I laughed.  
It wasn't even close to a Lara-Asking-How-To-Give-A-Blowjob laugh, but come on, nothing will ever be that funny again.

 

We spent the rest of the afternoon down at the bridge and at the fake beach, making stupid jokes and planning pranks. We had quite a lot of ideas for pranks written down, so if we ever felt like doing something, we just had to pick and choose from the list.  
I liked this. I liked it being just us, you know? Just the three of us. It was like we were the inner circle of the group. Whatever group that was. The Colonel was a pain in the arse but I loved him and hated him like a younger sister.  
When it started getting dark and the bugs started coming out, we went back to our dorms.  
I had some "unfinished business" to attend to, so I departed and Pudge and the Colonel went back to room 43.

The unfinished business involved my new friend, Malena. I was yet unsure whether I should call her the Sniffer or something actually clever.  
I'd been a bit rude to her earlier – although, I mean, she did sniff my hair which was pretty fuckin' weird – so I decided we should talk again and make ou- Uh, up. Make up. I asked around and quickly learnt that Malena was staying in room 51 with a roommate.  
I knocked on the door and she opened.  
"Oh," she said, looking a bit shocked to see me, like she was afraid I'd hit her or something. "It's you."  
"It's me," I said. "Can I come in?"  
"Yeah, sure," she replied, and stepped aside.  
Her room was the exact same shape and size as Room 43, only with a red carpet covering the entire floor, walls full of posters of bands I'd never even heard of, weird marks on the ceiling like someone had been throwing knives at it, and dirty laundry here and there.  
Not a book to be found.

"Sorry about the mess," she apologised.  
"Don't worry, my room is way worse," I said. And that was true – my room didn't only have the dirty laundry, it also had empty bottles of booze here and there (that I really should get rid off in case the Eagle decides to drops by).  
We sat down on her bed – as she didn't have a sofa – and she asked what's up.  
I'd never noticed her hair before. It was like... Cartoon hair. It was big and it looked soft and it just made me think of the word 'floof'. It was floofy.  
"Jesus Christ, your hair!" I exclaimed without even thinking about it twice.  
"Uh, yeah... I hate it."  
"No, no! It's amazing! Can I touch it?"  
I'm at least 90 percent sure that I had never before in my life asked if I "could touch it" without making an innuendo out of it, but now I did, because that floof hair was amazing.  
Malena lowered her head so I could touch it, and it was the floofiest floof hair I'd ever felt.  
It wasn't rough at all – it was soft and smooth and it was cold but not too cold and it felt amazing. Think about the softest dog you've ever petted. This hair was at least 10 times softer than that dog's fur.  
"It's like something out of a cartoon!" I remarked.

This was the first and only time I'd ever make a friend by petting their hair – and a good friend at that. We spent about an hour and a half talking about bands and boys and poetry. Malena wasn’t that into poetry, but she enjoyed listening to me quoting some. We exchanged phone numbers, and I told her I’d see her tomorrow.

“Why not later tonight?” she asked, and I said sure. I didn’t exactly have anything planned.  
I ran my fingers through Malena’s amazing fairytale hair one last time before I left.

From that point on, Malena was known as "The Floof."

 


	3. Truth or Dare

Pudge and the Colonel came to my room at around 10 PM to, quote, "Celebrate the success of the Barn Night." I mostly just wanted to get drunk.  
They knocked once, and I opened the door immediately before they had the chance to knock again. I was expecting the Floof and was mildly disappointed when it wasn't her.  
"Oh. It's you guys," I said. "Come in."  
And they did.

I took out pretzels and the Strawberry Hill, and the Colonel showed me a stack of pink paper cups with flowers on them.  
"Look, they were the only cups I could find at the store, okay?" he said when I asked about them.  
"We ain't drinkin' out the bottle tonight, hun. We classin' it up!" he then said with his best Alaka impersonation.  
"It's an old-time Southern drinking contest!" I responded, with an even better Colonel impersonation. "We's a-gonna treat Pudge to an evening of real Southern livin': we go'n match each other Dixie cup for Dixie cup till the lesser drinker falls."

And so we did. Well, the Colonel and I did. Pudge didn't drink a single drop of wine. He just sat there on my bed eating pretzels watching us drink cup after cup of that horrible wine that I'd somehow gotten used to and actually liked by now.  
We turned off the lights at 11 so the Eagle wouldn't come storming in, and by that time Pudge was half asleep and the Colonel and I were eminently drunk – he more than I.  
"What's with the tulips?" Pudge asked. "Jake and my's anniversary," I responded merrily. And then he just went quiet. The jealous little bastard.  
I rolled my eyes and looked back at the Colonel as I downed another Dixie cup of Strawberry Hill.

"So, to conclude, Monopoly has gotten me in more trouble than any other game I've ever played," I said, continuing the discussion we had before the Colonel got up to turn off the lights.  
"Even Truth or Dare?" he asked and drank another glass of the wine.  
"OOHH, I haven't played Truth or Dare in ages!" I exclaimed. The last time I played was last year with my cousin and her friends, who were all 2 years younger than me, so there was no kissing involved, which sucked. The fact that I didn’t get to kiss my cousin didn’t suck, of course. Just the fact that there was no kissing in general.  
"Me neither. That shit was played out in seventh grade," he said.  
"No it wasn't! Truth or Dare is still fun, you ass." You could notice I was really drunk since I was using 'ass' as an insult.

"What do you think, Pudge?" I asked.  
No answer. He was just staring blankly at my Life Library.  
"Pudge isn't even listening to us."  
"I'm listening," he mumbled.  
"We were just talking about Truth or Dare. Played out in seventh grade or still cool?"  
"Never played it. No friends in seventh grade."

Poor bastard, I thought. He didn't have any friends in seventh grade and now he has the Colonel and I. Not to sound self-loathing, but that's not much of an improvement.

"Well that does it!" I shouted a bit too loudly, given the fact that I was sitting right next to the Colonel who had tinnitus. The Colonel moved into the corner and almost fell asleep on the spot.  
"All right," said Pudge. "But I'm not making out with the Colonel."  
"Can't make out," the Colonel groaned. "Too drunk."  
"Truth or Dare, Pudge?"  
"Dare."

I thought for a moment before I said it – I thought about Jake and I thought about my morals and I tried to think about how I would feel if I found out Jake had cheated on me but then I saw Miles's face and I stopped thinking and I said, "Hook up with me."

There was a pause.

"What?" He asked shyly. It was dark and I was a bit distant and more than a bit drunk but I could still see his whole face turning red.  
"Hook up with me," I repeated clearly in a way-too-casual tone.  
Had it been physically possible for Miles's face to turn any more red it would've at this point, but then he smiled and said, "Okay."

I got on top of him and I just looked into his eyes for a moment, not saying a word. God, he was so cute when he was shy.  
Sitting right above his lap, already feeling something poking me in the back, my hands on his shoulders and his arms awkwardly clung to his sides, I closed in and our lips met and my world ended.

My eyes were closed and my heart was racing and I completely forgot about Jake because all I could focus on was the taste of Miles's lips and then there were only us and my world had ended.  
My world consisted only of Miles and I and the bed we were on and the clothes that soon wouldn't be between us. Even the Colonel was completely forgotten (he'd probably forgotten about himself at this point too).  
We lay on our sides and Miles's lips parted and suddenly we were kissing properly.  
His lips tasted sweet and his tongue – which was sort of all over the place – was salty from all the damned pretzels.  
You could notice Miles hadn't kissed a lot of people in his life, but that was just cute. I tried my best to show him exactly how it was done. I put my hand on his neck and my thumb stroked his jaw.

And we just kept kissing and the world around us kept Not Existing.  
At some point he pulled away and I heard an out-of-breath voice say "What is going on here?" but I just put a finger to my lips and shushed him and then we were kissing again.  
He was awkward and I was amazing (as always), but it was sweet.

Anyone that would've looked at us would've seen two drunk kids fooling around being horny and drunk, but to us everything in that situation was perfect.  
I grabbed his hand with mine and placed it on my stomach and Miles moved on top of me.

My heart started beating faster and faster and my back arched, but then he pulled away again.  
"What about Lara? Jake?"  
 _Ssshhh..._  
"Less tongue more lips," I murmured, and he listened.  
I could've sworn the Colonel said something at some point, but he didn't actually Exist so I paid no attention.  
I grabbed Miles's hand again and moved it from my waist up my shirt and I felt my heart in my chest and a moan in my throat and oh God yes, keep doing that.  
My legs wrapped around him and I grabbed his hip and I whispered onto his lips, "You're good at that," and he said nothing.

_You're good at that._   
_That's exactly what I said to Jake the first time we- Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God, what the hell is going on?! Pudge is on top of me and oh God-_

"This is so fun, but I'm so sleepy. To be continued?" I whispered awkwardly.  
I carefully tried to pull away, but the kiss lasted for another moment.  
I moved from beneath Pudge and placed my head on his chest and pretended to fall asleep.  
 _Oh my God, why?_  
 _If Jake finds out, I- Oh God why do I keep fucking things up?!_

And as if things couldn't get any worse, I heard Pudge whisper, "I love you, Alaska Young."

And as silence crept up on me, making me hear only the quiet breaths of Pudge, the beating of his heart, and the occasional snores of the Colonel, and feel the complete lack of light in the room, I fell asleep to the steady rhythm inside Pudge's chest.

 

 


	4. The Last Day

I woke up about three hours later when the phone rang.  
 ** _Jake_** , I thought. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-_  
I got up as quietly as I could, not because I was afraid of waking Pudge or the Colonel, but because it felt like it'd be rude to break the cosy silence which had settled comfortably in the room and the rest of the creek.  
I opened the door, and the bright lights of the hallway blinded me. I closed the door behind me and went to pick up the phone.  
Already knowing it was him – because, you know, who else calls a school at 3 am – I picked it up and said, "Hey Jake."

We had our standard talk with the standard "How are you?"s and the standard lies like "I love you" and "I miss you".  
For a moment it was silent. We'd run out of things to talk about.  
I was doodling a daisy automatically, and as I looked at it a heavy feeling slowly settled in my chest.  
I heard something along the lines of "You okay?" after a while, but I already felt the fear throughout my entire body.  
" _Oh god_ ," I trembled, and then I dropped the phone.  
At that point, the world stopped Existing again, but not in the good way.  
All I could feel was the pain in my chest and the shivers that went through my body. All I could think was that I needed to get out of there. I needed to get the fuck out of there **NOW**!

I ran back to my room, not giving a rat's arse about how rude I was to the silence, and I slammed the door behind me, sobbing.  
" _I have to get out of here!_ " I cried.  
"What's wrong?" asked Pudge, but I couldn't hear him. He didn't Exist right now.  
" _God, how many times can I fuck up?_ " I bawled and then I screamed.  
" ** _I JUST HAVE TO GO. HELP ME GET OUT OF HERE!_** "  
"Where do you need to go?"  
This I did hear, but I couldn't fucking think straight. I needed to sit down.  
I sat down on my bed and put my head between my legs, sobbing for a second more before I spoke with a lump in my throat.  
"Just please distract the Eagle right now so I can go. Please."  
And Pudge and the Colonel said, "OK" simultaneously.  
"Just don't turn on your lights. Just drive slow and don't turn on your lights," the Colonel said. "Are you sure you're OK?"  
"Fuck," I cried. "Just get rid of the Eagle for me. God oh God, I'm so sorry."  
I was fully aware that I sounded like a child who just found out daddy wasn't coming home, but I didn't fucking care.  
"OK," the Colonel said. "Start the car when you hear the second string."  
And so they left, and I was alone.

The room felt completely different now. I didn't care about the silence or the darkness or anyone at the creek that heard me.  
 _I need to find flowers_ , I thought. _I need to find those fucking flowers, oh my God_.  
And so I got up, and I foolishly ran straight past the tulips Jake had gotten me.  
I ran straight (well, not that straight. I was pretty drunk) out to the soccer field, hearing nothing but my heart beating rapidly and my own mind yelling at me about how much of a fuckup I am.  
 _Why do I keep fucking everything up? How could I fuck this up? Why?  
_

After running around the soccer field for a while, looking for some stupid flowers and completely ignoring how fucking cold my bare feet were, I heard a voice behind me.  
 _Go away_ , I thought. _You don't Exist right now_.  
It was Takumi. He tried to talk to me but I was in a hurry.  
"My mother died 8 years ago today and I always put flowers her grave on the anniversary but I forgot this year," I quaked to no one in particular.  
Takumi didn't know what to say, and even if he did know I wouldn't have paid any attention.  
He left me, just like Pudge and the Colonel had.  
After not finding a single flower on that stupid soccer field, I was just about ready to give up and break down crying, but then it hit me.  
 ** _THE TULIPS! THE MOTHERFUCKING TULIPS!_**  
And before I could even finish my own thoughts, I was already running back to my room to grab the stupid flowers.  
I heard the first firecracker string go off when I was running out to Blue Citrus.  
Running was hard and I fell over a lot, but pain didn't Exist right now and so I kept getting up and I kept running.  
I swung open the door. I threw the tulips in, and got in the car and waited for the sound of the second firecracker going off. It took way too long.

I could hear my heart beating rapidly in my chest and see my fast breaths becoming smoke in front of me. For what felt like forever, it was completely silent besides my heartbeats and my occasional sniffles. Tears were running down my cheek and just as I was about to wipe them off I heard the second string of firecrackers go off.  
I started Blue Citrus and roared off campus.

I drove onto the highway and headed toward the cemetery at full speed. I could not stop crying, but I kept wiping away my tears so I could focus on driving.  
The world around me was slowly coming back to its state of Existence and it now consisted of the heart in my throat, the road in front of me, the cold air around me, my destination, my state of never-ending drunkenness, and my self-loathing.  
Since the only two things in Blue Citrus that night were me and a bouquet of white tulips, I concluded that talking to myself would seem more sane than talking to flowers. Why this mattered at all, I don't know. It just felt like now was a bad time to lose my sanity – or, more of what I'd probably already lost.

I kept swearing at myself and blaming myself for every little thing that was wrong. It wasn't even about forgetting the stupid death anniversary anymore – it was Miles and it was my poor grades and it was my drunk dad and it was the stupid bullies I had in preschool that stole my crayons.  
Now, I'm not a believer, but the number of times I screamed "God damn it!" that night told otherwise.  
 _How the fuck could I fuck this up? God damn it, I'm such a fuckup! I had one thing to do – one thing that fucking mattered and I fucked it up!_  
The tears in my eyes were now starting to blur my vision, which, combined with how much the road was rocking back and forth and the sky was swirling, made driving very hard.  
I decided to stop caring and just started sobbing, but still driving at full speed. I saw a very quick, blurred red and blue light and heard a siren for a short second before I looked up and saw that I was heading straight toward a cop car and-

Oh.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally written entirely in French, but I later realised that Google Translate is very unreliable, and so I changed it, translating the text to English but keeping the French dialogues, but with English translations in parenthesis.

I awoke to the pleasantries of peaceful, amicable sounds of birds singing, wind blowing, persons chatting, and church bells ringing.  
I recall having the oddest of dreams, but the details escape me.  
Something about a school, a creek, a… commissioned officer and a boy whose name is lost but whose smile is imprinted on my eyelids.  
I sat up in my bed and rubbed my eyes. Streams of sunlight entered my chamber through the windows of the balcony door.  
My chamber, consisting of grand, white, panelled walls, provided with a bed in the far-right corner (next to the balcony), fandango drapes, a polished rosewood chair, a desk on top of which had stacks of paper, quill and ink, and a personal calendar.  
I climbed out of bed and looked around the room. It felt different than it did the day prior. Strange, I thought.  
“T’es réveille?” _(Are you awake?)_ called my father from the kitchen downstairs.  
“Oui papa,” _(Yes, dad.)_ I replied.  
“Le petit déjeuner est pret!” _(Breakfast is ready!)_  
And as a drunk strikes his wife, it me why the room felt different.  
The smell of scrambled eggs and bacon reaching my nose so that I can only crave but to taste it.

I slipped out of my nightgown and put on a quite modern, white button-up shirt, tucked into a long, black skirt reaching down to my bare feet.  
I pushed away the drapes, opened the balcony door and stepped outside, letting out the smell of breakfast into the warm, yet delightful fresh air and almost being blinded by the light.  
With not a cloud in the sky, the sun shined freely upon the city and its inhabitants.  
Kids were playing, grown-ups were chatting and laughing and having tea with croissants or omelettes au Fromage.  
No noise, no chaos, no complications. Just Paris.  
My view, complete with the Eiffel Tower across the canal with the sun rising behind it, was absolutely gorgeous.  
“Bonjour Mademoiselle!” _(Good morning, miss!)_ called a man from below. I know this man. It is Giles, the painter.  
“Bonjour Giles!” _(Good morning, Giles!)_ I replied.  
“Superb jour pour la peinture, n’est-ce pas?” _(Great day for painting, is it not?)_  
“Je ne serais pas, je suis un écrivain!” _(I wouldn’t know, I’m a writer!)_  
“Bien sur, bien sur.” _(Of course, of course.)_  
I returned to my chamber and walked over to the calendar on my desk and checked the date.  
11th of June, 1912.

“Abrielle! Viens em bas!” _(Abrielle! Come downstairs!)_ I heard my father shout from downstairs.  
“Oui, oui, attends un peux!” _(Yes, yes, one moment!)_  
I hurried downstairs, following the smell of breakfast into the kitchen.  
My father - a chubby little man with close to no hair was sitting at the table reading the newspaper as always, and my mother - my oh-so beautiful mother was standing by the cooker.  
“Bonjour Abrielle,” _(Good morning, Abrielle.)_ said father.  
“Bonjour, Papa; Bonjour, Mamans!” _(Good morning, dad; good morning, mum!)_ I said.  
“Bonjour ma chérie,” _(Good morning, darling)_ mother replied in her angelic voice as she turned and hugged me and kissed my forehead.  
“Comment ça va?” _(How are you?)_ she asked.  
“Fatigué, mais ça vas allez,” _(Tired, but good.)_ I said and smiled.  
Mother smiled back. “Manage ton petit déjeuner,” _(Eat your breakfast.)_ she said.

I could hear the neighbours through the walls. Englishmen.  
“Is she awake?” asked a voice. A masculine voice.  
“No, she’s more tired than ever,” replied a feminine voice.  
There was a moment of silence, and then a burst of laughter.  
This scared me, because it wasn’t just the neighbours who laughed. Mother and father laughed, too. And they didn’t stop.  
“Arrête de rire!” _(Stop laughing!)_ I shouted. “Arrête!” _(Stop!)_ But they didn’t listen.  
I filled with panic. The room suddenly started spinning and I felt horribly ill. I felt as if I was flying, nay, being pulled upwards by some mystical force.  
“Mama! Aide-moi!” _(Mum! Help me!)_ I shouted, but she kept just laughing, turned to the cooker, preparing a meal I was never going to eat. “Mama!” _(Mum!)_

And suddenly, I was no longer in France. My name was no longer Abrielle and the year was no longer 1912. Suddenly, I was a girl from Alabama who'd been in a car accident in the year 2005 whose name was Alaska Young.


	6. Finding Alaska

As I was slowly coming to my senses, a voice spoke. It was one of the neighbours’ voices.  
"How are you feeling?" it asked.  
At this point, apparently, I had tried to speak, but all that came out of my mouth was an assortment of groans and incoherent noises.  
"I’ll take that as 'I'm feeling tired'," said the voice.  
This was a fairly accurate description of how I was currently feeling.  
"What’s your name?"  
More groans.  
He laughed. It was a pleasant laugh - a sexy laugh.  
"I’ll just let you sleep."  
And so he let me sleep.  
But as I fell back asleep, I did not fall back to Paris. I did not see my mother. I just slept.

I woke up at about 8 o'clock in the morning. I was in a hospital.  
I was dressed in a hospital gown, and my lack of a bra really made me question my doctor's Perv Level. Thankfully, I was still wearing undies and I had covers to keep me warm.  
I had received breakfast in bed by a very kind, blue-eyed nurse named Arthur with a fortunate lack of sleeves. I had never before seen someone with that much muscle carry a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of juice with such grace.  
Later, the doctor came in.  
"Good morning, miss. My name is Dr. Thorton," said Dr. Thorton, AKA Dr. **_Sex_** , with his shaved head and his stubble and his brown eyes and deep, monotone voice and just the general **Oh-My- _God_** -ness of him.  
Granted, he was a lot older than me – probably old enough to be my father, but it wasn't against any laws to look at each other now, was there?

"Now," he said, sitting down on the end of my bed. "There's the matter of your name."  
"My name?" I asked.  
"We were unfortunately unable to identify you, and we couldn't find any identification on your person. We would have looked up the owner of the car you were found in but the identification plates were missing." He frowned at me.  
"Right, uh... Okay."  
Dr. Sex stood up and picked up a notepad from my end table and a pen from his front pocket.  
"So," he said.  
"So," I replied awkwardly.  
"What's your name, miss?"  
Without having to think about it for more than a split second, I blurted out, "My name is Olivia Mayne."  
"Nice to meet you, Olivia," he said as he scribbled down the name in his notebook.  
"I have to ask, are you French?"  
"Excuse me?" The question had come quite unexpectedly. Olivia Mayne wasn’t exactly a French name.  
"You were mumbling in French while you slept."  
  


 _Haha_ , I thought. _Very funny, but the truth is that I don't speak a word of French._

Ignoring his question, I asked, "How long was I asleep?"  
"About six hours," he replied.  
 _Not too bad_ , I thought. _Could've been six weeks. Or six years._

"Now, who is your next of kin? We need to inform them of your accident and, obviously, send the bill."  
"Uhhh..."  
I just gave a fake name, so do I have to come up with a fake next of kin? But they are going to call them! What am I going to say? The Colonel? Pudge?  
But before I could finish that line of thought, my mouth acted before my brain and said, "Malena Martínez. Malena Martínez is my next of kin."  
Dr. Sex gave me a doubtful look.  
"She's... My cousin."  
Still doubtful.  
"On my mother's side."  
He raised an eyebrow.  
"She's hispanic."

Dr. Sex shook his head to himself and just shrugged it off and wrote down the name.  
"Is that 'Martínez´with a Z?"  
"Uhh, I think so. And an accent above the I."  
"Phone number?"  
I gave Dr. Sex Malena's cell number, and hoped to God that she would help me lie. But, I was relatively calm. Malena was the kind of person who would help a friend out of a sticky situation by lying her ass off. She was cool like that.  
The doctor called, and even though it was early in the morning, Malena picked up after just a few seconds. Pre-written statements were said, routine questions were asked, and all-in-all it seemed like Malena was playing along with my lies. _I have to remember to thank her_ , I thought.

Right when Dr. Sex hung up, there was a knock on the door and a policeman entered.  
"Oh, she’s awake," he said.  
Dr. Sex turned to me, gestured toward the policeman, and said, “Alaska, this is the policeman who pulled you out of your car.”  
And just then it hit me. __**BLUE CITRUS.  
** "What, uh... What happened to my car?"  
The policeman took off his hat and looked as if he was about to tell me my mother had died.

 


End file.
